


Is This Strength?

by intoapuddle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoapuddle/pseuds/intoapuddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren feels weak from all the pressure fame puts on him. He needs a helping hand, but he won't take one until he accidentally asks Chris for help. And Chris is not one to let Darren work on himself all alone.</p><p>[NC-17, CrissColfer, lots of Darren backstory, angst, basically revolving around Darren!development]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is This Strength?

It had started at a rehearsal for Darren's summer tour. They were close to finishing the set, and Darren was just... off. His voice didn't manage. His talks got awkward. He forgot lyrics. That was _fine._ Darren was a forgetful soul who tried to make the best of what his talent offered because he usually had so much fun doing it, but today it wasn't fun at all. During the last few songs, every off-key note and every forgotten lyric started to weigh down on him and he couldn't shake it. It made him sad in a way that he didn't even recognize in himself. Sure, he got frustrated and annoyed at times when he didn't perform as well as he wanted to, but this was different. This made Darren want to just leave.

 

He managed through the set. He went completely silent a few times, eyes closed, never really making eye contact with his band members. That fucked everything up even worse. Their timing was off. Darren just couldn't communicate with them at all. His discomfort spread like a disease, even though the others mostly looked from one another with confusion rather than with the sadness that was so prominent inside of Darren.

 

Darren didn't need to say much. The guys didn't ask. When the set was over and Darren put away his things he put a hand up to wave, turned his back, and went to sit down in the driver's seat of his car. He didn't drive far until he pulled up in the middle of nowhere, his shoulders and jaw quaking with emotion until a couple of stiff, rusty sobs shook out of him. Darren wasn't used to this. Dark thoughts curled out of the shaded corners of his mind and made themselves visible.

 

He wasn't good enough. He didn't deserve this. He fucked everything up. He was only in this position because he could talk himself into it. He'd gotten a killer hook to help his career forward. He'd been associated with a good, popular actor and his entire career was based on riding on his coat tails. He was so fucking _pretty_ , but what if he wasn't? Would he get a single job if he didn't smile like he did? What would he do if the warmth that radiated through his features turned cold? Darren felt cold now. What if he'd lost it? He was a nobody. He couldn't do this. He couldn't tour the _entire country_ when he was still this flawed.

 

The sudden rush of self doubt scared him. But when Darren thought back, it wasn't that sudden. There had been small clues there, thoughts that had popped into his mind and been stored away. He excused them as being 'humble', and so never really dealt with them. They were so real and there, all the time. Darren was surprised he'd managed this far with them always trying to scratch out of their confides. They'd sure broken free now.

 

Was he even going to manage driving home in this state?

 

–-

 

Bed was good. Ice cream was good. Sweatpants were good. Old The Beatles records were good, softly playing in the background on low volume. Darren was safe like this, with his phone off and nobody there to tell him all the right things. He needed to _wallow_ for a while. He never did that because wallowing is a stupid downwards spiral that doesn't produce any good in the end. It just takes time and it makes people worry. But Darren had already started, involuntarily at first, and it was damn hard to try and get out of.

 

So Darren was going to wait it out. He didn't consciously construct that thought, but that was evidently what he did. He was in bed, pulled his laptop over his chest and watched some Korra. He browsed the internet and lurked around on twitter without tweeting anything himself. He'd gotten @s from people he knew, but he didn't feel up to responding in this state. He read some of the things people he didn't know wrote about him instead, and it just made him feel worse. At first he didn't know why. They wrote about how lovely they thought he was. They told him he was a good singer, a good actor. That he was gorgeous. Sexy. Some people even said inappropriate things. He hadn't made the conscious decision to read those in a while.

 

After browsing his feed for a little bit, he realized that the feeling he was hit by was guilt. He felt guilty for being this loved. He thought back on his friends in college, and how much harder they worked than him. How much more valuable their work was. The writers were so _original_ and good, and yet the actors got all the credit. Some people tweeted Darren that he brought “so much” to his characters, but the truth was all in all, that Darren was just a dude reading someone else's script. He understood when people loved a character. He could understand the thought process behind thinking that some actors really did bring out the best of the script they were given. But Darren... He was none of that. At least not yet. All he could bring was his radiating smile and working his hardest to make Blaine look as skilled as possible on camera. He felt bad about how far that had taken him.

 

–-

 

When Darren was a kid, he was often described as 'easily shaken' or 'vulnerable'. That was accurate to some extent, but Darren still felt as though that description was making his problems seem less. Darren had to learn how to deal with negative criticism, because it never came to him naturally at all. When he was a kid he thought any negativity aimed towards him was said out of spite, because people wanted him to be sad for some reason.

 

Darren didn't tell many people this now, but he used to cry a lot. If a kid said something nasty to him or even implied it, it made him cry. He could stand there on the playground or in the class room or whatever, having had a good time. But if someone went up to him and said he did this or that wrong, his eyes would well up and his bottom lip would tremble until his body wouldn't allow him to keep anything in anymore and he started sobbing openly.

 

It made for some remarks, because boys weren't allowed to cry. Darren wasn't a lonely kid at all, but because he was so prone to show emotion there was a wall between him and most of the others. They didn't take him seriously at all because of how emotional he could get over such small things. Someone didn't pass him the ball at P.E.? It could make him cry. He put his hand up in class and the teacher didn't notice it? That could make him cry, too. It didn't exactly give him a dignified reputation. The fact that anyone, at any time, had the power to make him weep was like a hold over him, an upper hand that he had a hard time bearing. He was _loved_ , but he was also weird. He wore his heart on his sleeve.

 

By the time high school rolled around, Darren decided to change. His fellow classmates were all moving to another school where kids from other middle schools were going to be at as well, and they were going to be put in different classes with new teachers and new students. Darren decided easily that this was his big opportunity for personal change and development. His fourteen year old self consciously decided that he would never cry again. Crying was for wusses, and Darren didn't want to be a wuss. He was older now. He could avoid letting things get to him so bad it made him cry. He wanted to be a cool guy, not necessarily tough or badass, but enough to not be seen as an emotional time bomb that was just waiting to explode with tears.

 

It worked for years. Darren didn't cry in a long time, and he was surprised by how naturally people just went with it. It went from being a part of his identity to disappearing completely and turning into, “oh, Darren doesn't cry”. Darren thought that was a good thing. That was how it was supposed to be, because he didn't want to look weak. He wanted to endure hardship with dignity. Because to Darren, that's what strength ultimately is.

 

Darren was a part of a theatre group in high school where the weird people hung out. Darren was friends with the kids that got taunted and after a while started to realize that the fact that he genuinely gave them his time of day made them feel better.. He didn't get why people would make fun of others in any other than playful way. He'd gotten his share of teasing, but those people were still his friends because Darren let them. The weird people he was friends with didn't let the bullies be their friends. They didn't want them to. Darren didn't understand that either. He himself had a strong need to get along with everyone. He didn't want anyone to genuinely not like him. If they did, he felt as though he had failed, even if he wasn't very fond of the person in question either. His parents had taught him to always be polite and smile on his worst days, and he took that advice to heart. He couldn't see how there would be a bad outcome of being nice to everyone, anyway.

 

So Darren ended up being the center of the social cliques in high school. Everyone knew Darren. They invited him to parties and a lot of the girls fell in love with him because of how nice he was to everyone around him. Darren enjoyed the attention. He felt like he'd gotten far from the little kid he used to be, who cried almost every day.

 

But Darren still remembered. He always would. That wall people have between the emotions they feel and the emotions they show didn't build up inside of him until he was a teenager, and somehow thinking about it still made him feel bad.

 

It became a sore subject if someone ever brought it up later in his life. It didn't matter if it was his mom or just one of the few people he still knew from being that young. He just didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want that to have happened, mostly because it was _his own fault._ As much as he tried to tell himself it wasn't, he still felt as though it was. They were emotional problems that caused his parents to have talks with the teachers because they didn't know how to handle him. Mean boys and girls didn't get punished when they actually did tease him because “Darren always cried anyway”.

 

Darren was reminded of this entire ordeal when he stood there in rehearsal that day, trying his hardest but still getting off-key and imperfect. Nobody said anything. They knew everyone has off days. But they didn't need to say anything for Darren to feel that pull downwards in the corners of his mouth, or for his eyes to well up. He was ashamed for getting so emotional over _nothing_ and knowing that he could still get like that even at twenty six scared him.

 

It scared him because it made him realize that it didn't matter how old he got or how much he fought to not be the person that nobody took seriously all those years ago. He always went back to that default state. Being ashamed of feeling the way he did. Being ashamed of how his body reacted to what he was feeling. He just couldn't keep the emotions at bay, and when he sat there crying in his car at the side of the free way he was terrified that it would start up again. That he'd become that vulnerable person and that all his hard work would be for nothing.

 

He was sad because he didn't feel adequate to be in the position he was putting himself in. Going on a tour for the entire country, entertaining thousands of fans, doing interviews that required him to put the charm on and being offered to audition for parts that he didn't understand how anyone could actually think he could live up to. All the hype over him was like a rushing in his head, and that combined with his sudden retreat back to the boy who used to cry over nothing was a close to dangerous combination.

 

So isolation was better. Darren cried freely. It didn't matter what he did. In the shower, listening to music, watching TV shows or getting a concerned call from his mom: it was like a broken shower tap because the tears and the sobs just wouldn't stop pouring out of him. Even when his mom made a joke out of it, saying 'now you know how women feel once a month', it didn't make him feel better. It only made him cry harder.

 

That wall that was between him and the other people in his life was building again. He couldn't talk about it with anyone because nobody understood. Darren only felt comfortable telling his mom because she nagged him so much about why he was retreating back from everyone just a couple weeks before the tour that he couldn't help but be honest with her. At least she didn't judge him. She was just there, and she helped keep some people off his back about it.

 

And then there was Chris. Darren's on-screen boyfriend and off-screen on-and-off boyfriend for a couple of years now. The on-and-off thing wasn't due to either of their feelings towards each other changing, but because their personal schedules often got in the way. They were both at the peak of their careers and they had made the mutual decision to make the most of it. So, when they could be together in the same city for several weeks in a row (most often filming Glee together anyway) they were boyfriends and that was that. When they had to spend months apart, though, things were different. They still kept in touch, and they were still best friends, but Darren had a need for physical closeness and Chris was fine with that. Chris had even taken advantage of their 'arrangement' himself before. It made for some awkwardness at first, but then it just became like a game. They told the other about each of their experiences with other guys or girls, because in the end they knew that they were fine with just being the two of them. They were each other's favorites.

 

And they knew the summer held some more on-and-off, since Darren would be on tour for over two months. They'd do Paris together, though. That was good.

 

So naturally, they wanted to squeeze in as much 'them' time as they could before they rushed off on their own adventures. Darren didn't want to meet Chris in the state he was in currently, but he still missed him. He found himself yearning to be held at night and kissed awake. He wanted that closeness that he only felt with Chris, but he didn't want his vulnerability to show through and become a wall between them either. Darren and Chris knew most everything about each other, but Chris didn't know this.

 

But that night, Darren had to look at their messages on his phone because he wanted his boyfriend. He wanted some sort of sense that he was still there. Looking through pictures had sufficed the first two days, but now the third day was coming to an end and Darren still felt like crying all the time, and Chris felt so far away. He'd had his mom tell Chris to stay away because Darren was sick with the flu, but God, he couldn't keep it up anymore. He typed out something in the message field, just a stupid: _I miss you so much, come over here, I don't care. I need you because I'm falling apart._ And his finger had accidentally brushed over send and then... Panic.

 

Panic, because he couldn't take the message back and he didn't know what to say to make it better. Fifteen minutes later he heard the sound of a key working the lock on his door, and he knew that it was Chris. He scrambled out of bed and put on the first t-shirt he could find before he walked out to meet him in the hallway.

 

Chris had one look at Darren before Darren broke down sobbing. He couldn't fucking help it. Chris looked so good, all dolled up for some press thing he'd done but wearing that stupid 'British At Heart' graphic Tee and smiling at Darren like he'd missed him so much. Darren felt bad for ruining everything. For keeping them apart when they didn't have much time left together, and making Chris miss him already. Darren couldn't see Chris's reaction through the tears, but he could make out Chris walking forward and feel himself become enveloped by big, strong arms. Chris put a hand on the side of Darren's face and held him to his chest, kept him there, and let him cry.

 

“What's the matter?” Chris asked after a few short moments of Darren trying to recollect his breath.

 

Darren sniffled and exhaled shakily. His arms were around Chris's waist and he kind of never wanted to leave.

 

“I missed you.”

 

Darren's voice was so sad and watery it almost made himself cry.

 

“Well, I'm here,” Chris said.

 

He had that tone in his voice; like he just didn't understand. That tangible confusion that eliminated any comfort the embrace was supposed to bring. Darren hated it. He couldn't deal with it. He wanted Chris to leave. He needed to _just get through this_ and be alone. He hadn't meant for Chris to come over here. He'd ruined everything. He'd ruined _everything._

 

Darren pulled away from Chris and ran a hand through his hair. His curls had gotten longer. He hadn't shaved in a few days. He probably looked a mess.

 

“You should probably leave,” Darren said softly without looking Chris in the eyes. “I'm... I'm contagious. You'll get sick.”

 

“Darren, you are openly _crying_ right now,” Chris said with stern-ness. “I've never seen you like this. I'm not going anywhere.”

 

Darren looked up. Now it was his turn to be confused.

 

“What?” Darren asked dumbly.

 

Chris walked closer and tilted his head. His eyes shone with concern.

 

“What do you mean 'what'?” he asked softly. “I don't _care_ if I get sick if you get this sad when you're alone.”

 

Darren's lower lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes shut, looking away. He felt like such a child. The more he willed himself not to cry, the harder it got to suppress the sobs. Darren hiccuped and wrapped his arms around himself.

 

Chris was there again, holding him, Darren's arms trapped between their chests. Darren nuzzled his face into the crook of Chris's neck and tried not to think. He didn't want to think about not crying, he didn't want to think about what Chris might make of this. He just wanted it all to stop, and he wanted it to make sense in a way that he could explain. He wanted that so bad.

 

“You don't really have the flu, do you?” Chris whispered.

 

Darren inhaled sharply, more tears staining Chris's shirt and soaking his neck. He couldn't respond, but he could feel Chris nod where his chin was resting on top of his head.

 

“Come on, let's go lie down,” Chris said.

 

He took Darren's hand and turned to check on him (Darren nodded), and lead him into Darren's bedroom. Darren basically fell onto the bed like it there was a magnetic field between him and it that forced him on top of it. Darren curled up on it, but he wasn't crying anymore. Chris slid out of his jeans and lied down next to him.

 

“Turn around,” Chris said. “I wanna hold you.”

 

Darren turned away immediately, not wanting Chris to see him tear up again. When he was facing the wall, he could feel Chris make himself comfortable behind him. His chest pressed up against his back and he draped the covers over both of them. It was already midnight, so sleeping would do both of them some good. Darren let out a light breath of relief as Chris arms snaked over his torso and tugged over his chest, softly massaging and nuzzling his nose onto the back of his neck.

 

“You know I love you, right?” Chris asked.

 

He sounded different now. Shaken.

 

“I do,” Darren breathed out automatically, and he threaded his fingers with Chris's on his chest.

 

“Don't forget it,” Chris said, and he sounded a little bit calmer.

 

“I won't,” Darren said.

 

For once he felt at a loss for words. Like nothing else needed to be said. And Chris seemed to be on the same page, because only a few moments later his breathing evened out, and he was sleeping holding him. Darren shuddered out a small breath and caressed Chris's hand softly, mapping out every part of Chris that was touching him in this moment in his mind. His chest, his arm, his hand, his feet and legs where they tangled with Darren's at the end of the bed, his mouth accidentally brushing over the skin on the back of his neck. The thoughts were comforting enough to lull Darren to sleep.

 

–-

 

When Darren awoke, Chris was no longer there. He realized it without even opening his eyes, so he refrained from doing that at all. He curled in on himself, thighs pressed up against his chest. Deep breaths. Then a body sunk down the bed beside Darren and a hand was put on Darren's waist.

 

“Hey, you up?” Chris asked, leaning in to talk into Darren's ear.

 

Darren turned his head and they were close enough to kiss, so Chris pressed their lips together without second thought. He pulled back with a smile and brushed a hand over Darren's cheek. Darren leaned into the touch, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. It felt good to smile.

 

“I am now,” Darren said.

 

His voice was raw from sleep, and Chris turned him fully so that they were chest to chest on the bed. He then snuffled into Darren's chest, breathed him in a little bit, and Darren put his arms around him. This was a lot better than being alone. It reminded him of who he was and wanted to be in the present, and detached him a little from his sense of inadequacy and his past.

 

They stayed in bed silently for a while. Darren had nothing to say unless Chris asked, and Chris didn't seem to want to ask anything just yet. It was nice. The one thing Darren had wanted was Chris there, his strong arms and his smile and his kisses. There was concern, too, Darren could tell. A sense of apprehension. But Darren realized Chris felt good just being there as well, because Chris had genuinely missed him. They didn't need to do anything but be together, tangled into one another under the covers of the bed. Presence and skin-to-skin were the only things required right now.

 

–-

 

They fell asleep together and awoke after just another hour. This time they got out of bed to get breakfast, and Darren realized he hadn't really been eating proper meals for a few days when Chris went to get eggs and a frying pan to actually make something with. They ended up having scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee together by the kitchen table, and Darren felt fine. He was starving at this point, and Chris was smiling at him fondly. He could work with this reality.

 

But Chris was concerned, still. He had every right to be. So when they were done with eating and moved to sit next to each other on the couch in the living room to finish their coffees, Chris spoke up.

 

“So, what's going on?” he asked.

 

Darren looked up at Chris and fiddled with the coffee cup, trying to figure out what to say.

 

“Your mom said you weren't feeling very well,” Chris continued. “Like, you had the flu, but... I don't know, I never really believed it. If you were really sick you'd just text me and ask me to feel sorry for you.”

 

Chris smiled crookedly and Darren let out an amused huff, smiling back.

 

“So...,” Chris said, voice going softer.

 

“Yeah,” Darren cut him off, and he swallowed. “I... Okay.”

 

He took a steady breath and tried his hardest to relax. Darren had decided, unconsciously at first, that he'd be honest with Chris the moment he came to see him. Otherwise they couldn't really exist in the same space, and Darren really wanted them to do that. He didn't want to have to lie and get through things alone, but he was ashamed of how little he thought of himself. It wasn't really a badge of honor he'd proudly wear on his chest for everyone to see. And the fact that it got him down as much as it did just made everything so much worse.

 

“I freaked out at rehearsals,” Darren said. “I freaked... like, right the fuck out. But like, silently. I don't think the others realized how bad it was, but... I don't know. I just felt like...”

 

Darren sighed.

 

“Like what?” Chris prompted.

 

“Like I suck,” Darren said then, and he let out a small, dry chuckle. “Like I'm just not cut out for all of... this. Like, I just have fans because I get to kiss you a couple of times a season. I don't know.”

 

“You know that's not true,” Chris said seriously.

 

“Do I, though?” Darren asked, and tilted his head. “There must be some truth to it, I--”

 

“You get a solo almost every episode,” Chris argued. “That's all _you_. Your tour didn't sell out because of me. Okay?”

 

They were silent for a moment. Darren didn't want to argue. He didn't need Chris to tell him all the right things. He shouldn't have brought it up in the first place.

 

“Why do I feel like it is, then?” Darren asked with a small voice as he stared down at the contents of his coffee mug. “Like it's... all going downhill. Like I'm not good enough for the people that look up to me. I try really fucking hard to be a person worth looking up to, but I'm just like... a late twenties dude who likes to sing and dance. Is that even worth looking up to?”

 

Chris took Darren's hand, put them on one of his thighs, and looked into Darren's eyes.

 

“Yes,” he said. “You are.”

 

Darren stared down at their hands and tried not to cry.

 

“And you're not obligated to try and be more than that,” Chris went on. “The fact that you take the role you've been given so seriously just proves what a good person you are. But you don't have to change the world just because you have a lot of fans. They have their own personal reasons to look up to you, and that's just because you are the guy you are.”

 

“I just feel so fucking weak,” Darren said, and his emotions shone through his voice. “I still get like... Sad. And my life is more or less _perfect_ right now, more perfect than it will ever be, and it's...”

 

A tear rolled down Darren's cheek.

 

“Just because the way you feel mostly stem from your own emotions it doesn't mean they are worth any less or aren't as real,” Chris said. “You feel this way because you are human. No one's asking you to be more than that. You're still a regular dude, and the people who are worth your time of day get that.”

 

Darren looked up at Chris, eyes puffy and red, and Chris's mouth trembled. Darren put the coffee cup on the table and Chris followed his movements, and then they melted into a mutual embrace. Chins tucked on either shoulder and arms fitting next to one another's as they wrapped them around their bodies.

 

“You don't have to be so concerned,” Darren murmured into Chris's ear. “I'll... I'll be fine.”

 

“Darren,” Chris sighed, and rubbed his cheek up against Darren's neck. “You mean a lot to me. I can't just look past this like it's nothing.”

 

“But it is... practically nothing,” Darren said.

 

Chris pulled back a little and looked Darren in the eyes.

 

“It's not,” Chris said. “I take this seriously, okay?”

 

Something pulled inside of Darren then. After everything Chris had said in the last half hour, with all the good advice and the wise words, this was what did it. The moment Chris had uttered those words Darren realized that there was no dividing wall separating him and Chris from complete and honest understanding of one another. There was no confusion and there were no weird looks. No judgements. Not like Darren had experienced when he was an over-emotional kid, not the way he continuously put judgement on himself for still feeling too much. To Chris it didn't matter how much success Darren gained, or how many fans he had. His happiness was what mattered to him, and it had nothing to do with all that other stuff. He wanted to fix it, even if Darren ultimately had the power to do that himself. He wanted to help.

 

And that realization made desperate sobs shake out of Darren in a way that made him feel exactly like the little kid he used to be, except this time he had someone who knew exactly how to care without having to ask. He put both hands on his face and cried into them, and Chris's arms tightened around him. Darren buried his face in Chris's chest. The only thing separating them were the hands that still covered Darren's eyes and cheeks, and he coughed out a couple more sobs as Chris rubbed soothing circles to his upper back and the back of his neck.

 

“This is a good cry, right?” Chris asked, voice slightly shrill. “Isn't it?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Darren managed to choke out.

 

“That's all I need to know,” Chris whispered, mostly to himself, and sighed a breath of relief.

 

–-

 

They ended up back in bed, attached by lips and scrambling hands and the urge to rid one another of all clothing. The mood had changed once Darren had managed to stop crying and looked up from Chris's chest, and they met half-way in a loving kiss. The one kiss turned into several more, and they ended up rubbing up against each other on the couch for a while. To Darren, it was really the one thing he needed right now. He wanted to be touched in that way, kissed in that way, loved in that way. And Chris, as usual, was the one to bring him just that. He always seemed to know what Darren was thinking, like there was a bridge between their minds where their intentions met and became mutual. It was what had drawn them together in the first place, and it was still Darren's favorite thing about them because it meant that they could be together in so many different ways.

 

And when they were like this, it made it all so much better. After a few short moments they were out of their clothes and Darren was lying with his back to the bed, legs spread and Chris tonguing his hole open beautifully. It took some lube and fingering and whimpering kisses until Chris turned them on the bed, Chris half sitting against the wall, letting Darren sink down his thick, flushed pink cock and work himself up and down it as he steadied himself by the hold of Chris's hands in his.

 

Darren rested his forehead against Chris's as they fucked, and breathed out grunts and moans against Chris's trembling lips until Chris couldn't take it anymore and pressed a hard kiss onto Darren's lips. It made for more desperation, more urgency, and Chris fucked up inside Darren faster. Darren's muscles trembled and shook. He squeezed Chris's hands harder and gyrated his hips up and down Chris's cock, rocking with him in a position that allowed his shaft to brush over Chris's barely-there stomach rolls in a delicious, moan inducing way.

 

As Chris came, he kept his cock snug as deep inside Darren he could. Darren could feel the way Chris's dick pulsated inside of him as he filled Darren with his load, and the thought of that made Darren squeeze and rub his dick until he came, head tipping back and mouth opening involuntarily as a big breath escaped his lungs, making him feel out of breath and dizzy as Chris tipped them over on the bed and slipped out of Darren. They melted in to kisses and slow, loving squeezes at various parts of one another's bodies as they came down from the intensity of each of their orgasms, and stayed lax and heavy on top of the bed together, sighing with relief. Darren felt a small tinge of pain at the knowledge that him and Chris wouldn't be able to be together like this much the coming months, but he tried to revel in the moments they did have. They'd get Paris. They'd get more time. But Darren was greedy with it. He wanted Chris, all the time.

 

–-

 

A couple hours later Chris and Darren were snuggled up on the couch watching re-runs of Friends and mostly just sharing space, holding hands under the blanket that was covering them and laughing at the same jokes. During one of the commercial break, Darren kissed the side of Chris's neck and exhaled.

 

“I think I'll get back to real life tomorrow,” he said easily.

 

“You are?” Chris couldn't hide the obvious relief and giddiness filling his chest.

 

Darren grinned at Chris's excitement.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think... Yeah. I have shit to do. A summer tour to get ready for.”

 

Chris kissed Darren on the mouth and lingered there for a couple seconds before pulling away.

 

“I'm proud of you,” Chris murmured. “You really are stronger than you think you are.”

 

Darren scoffed a little, not really feeling up to take the compliment seriously.

 

“Yeah, isolating myself from the world for four days really shows strength, doesn't it?” Darren joked.

 

“It does!” Chris said, raising his eyebrows. “Really, Darren. Strength is about coming back from a dark place, not never falling into one. You know that.”

 

Darren fell silent for a moment.

 

“It's different when I try to apply that stuff to myself,” he said eventually. Chris squeezed his hand. “Like. I expect myself to be some sort of... I don't know.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Chris said. “I feel that way, too sometimes. It isn't exactly easy to just give yourself a break...”

 

“Luckily I have a very wise boyfriend who can remind me of it when I need it,” Darren smiled.

 

Chris smiled back, but something held him back from fully sharing the moment. Darren tilted his head and furrowed his brows in question.

 

“I was just...,” Chris said, then paused. Started over. “I was just thinking about something... regarding our, um, arrangement.”

 

Darren knew exactly what arrangement Chris was referring to. The one where they weren't boyfriends unless they were in the same state.

 

“Could we... not do that this summer?” Chris asked. “Just to try it out?”

 

Darren's jaw dropped in mock-horror. Chris looked at him sceptically.

 

“If you're joking right now it's not funny,” Chris warned with distance.

 

“I am joking,” Darren grinned giddily. “And it is funny.”

 

Chris let go of Darren's hand and swatted his shoulder, shifting away from him.

 

“Hey, wait,” Darren said and grabbed Chris's arm, pulling him closer again. “Don't.”

 

“Uh-uh,” Chris said, shaking his head. “You make jokes at my expense. Not cool.”

 

He turned his nose up and his face away from Darren, but Darren could see the hint of a smile there.

 

“Well, I'd say we're moving pretty fast by changing our relationship after two years,” Darren said behind a chuckle. “Next thing you know you want us to become Facebook official.”

 

Chris turned his head to face Darren again and this time he made a scrunchy, disgusted face that made Darren laugh fully. Chris laughed with him then, and let Darren pull him back under the blanket and for Darren's arms to wrap around him.

 

“I think it's about time we change that, actually,” Darren murmured. “No one else measures up to you, anyway.”

 

“Suck-up,” Chris mock-scolded behind a smile.

 

“I'd love to,” Darren said with a grin.

 

Chris made a face, and Darren quirked an eyebrow and smirked, sinking to his knees under the blanket. Chris yelped when Darren flattened a hand over the bulge in Chris's sweat pants and pulled his cock out. Chris laughed airily and tugged at the blanket, but Darren held it over himself.

 

“No peeking,” he warned, and then he closed his mouth around the head of Chris's cock.

 

Chris groaned, and Darren smiled as he kissed Chris's shaft. Yeah. This was what he wanted. And after this he'd suggest Chris that maybe they could try and work the schedules around each other in the coming year. Darren had a few auditions to do, and he knew Chris was going to work with his movie, but why not try to do that in the same place? Or at least when the other was in the same city. They could make that work. They were in show business, after all.

 

He couldn't give up more time with him, anyway. Not when Chris sounded the way he did when Darren gave him a blind blow job like this one and was able to laugh with him like they did, even during sex. Not when he knew there wasn't a separating wall between them. Not when he knew that he could, no, _wanted_ to tell Chris about what he used to be like as a kid in a way he hadn't told anyone else.

 

He couldn't give that up. He couldn't risk it. And he wouldn't.

 

Maybe that was what was the ultimate solution to his issues with himself. Chris there, as a constant reminder, until Darren learned to do it himself. Maybe. Chris was his strength at this time in his life. Darren smiled to himself as he heard Chris let out another breathy moan, and he sucked his cock fully.

 

Yeah. Chris was going to be his full time boyfriend and his strength. He needed him to be.

 

~The End.


End file.
